


I'm Okay With It If You Are

by circular_infinity



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, F/M, Oral Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, everyone is sober, it takes 1000 words before they even touch, liz wants to climb him like a tree, max has lots of feelings about liz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 22:34:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18353075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circular_infinity/pseuds/circular_infinity
Summary: There really is only one bed at the motel.





	I'm Okay With It If You Are

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: "Liz/Max - There really is only one bed at the motel", requested by latessitrice on the Less Seen Roswell New Mexico Ficathon. Originally posted at https://starbright-star.livejournal.com/7892.html?thread=39124#t39124
> 
> This is about 1000 times less trope-y than the prompt deserves, but here it is non-the-less.

"It's fine," Liz says. "We're adults."

"No, really, I'll sleep in the truck," Max repeats.

"What if that's where Maria and Michael are?" Liz asks.

"Uhh."  The noise is forced out of him with level of dismay that he has never felt before in his life.

"Max, please," she says. "You look like you haven't slept in a month and it's too cold to sleep alone outside.  Stay in the hotel room.  For my piece of mind, if nothing else.  I promise I'll be a perfect lady.  I won't lay a hand on you."

The teenager behind the counter snickers at that.

"Okay," Max sighs. "Okay.  Thank you."

"No, thank you," Liz says and she gives him one of those looks that she's been giving all day that he's been having trouble deciphering.

\---

The jalapeno room is something else.  Max almost suggests they both go sleep outside.  Everything's red and spicy.  Even worse, Max was going to try to sleep in the room's chair, but there isn't one.

"We can share the bed," Liz says firmly, already guessing what he's going to say next. "You're not sleeping on the floor.  It looks kind of disgusting."

It kind of does, he has to concede, but, "Are you sure?"               

"Max, I don't want to be pressuring you into something you're not comfortable with, but I really am okay with it if you are."

He probably shouldn't be, but it's been a long, disappointing day, and he is.

"Then thank you," he says.

They get ready for bed in near silence.  She suggests he takes a turn in the bathroom first so he does.  While he's there he takes of his jacket, boots and socks, and shirt leaving his undershirt on.  He really doesn't want to try to sleep in his jeans, but would that taking this a step too far?  He opens the door to ask Liz to find that she has shucked her jacket and her shoes, but hasn't taken off anything else.

Seeing her hesitation, he says, "I can still sleep in the truck."

"Ridiculous," she says. "It's just that I'm realizing now that I don't have pajamas and really don't want to sleep in my jean skirt.  Will that make you unconformable?"

"You're worried about me?"

"I want us both to be comfortable enough to sleep, but also comfortable with each other."

"If you want you can borrow…"  He trails off, realizing too late that maybe he’s being too forward.

"Borrow?" Liz asks.

"My shirt," he says. "I was going to ask if you wanted to borrow my shirt."

He means his button up and he holds it out to her.  After a moment of consideration, she takes it.

"Thank you," she says and when it's her turn, goes to change in the bathroom.

While she's gone he does take off his pants and gets into bed - left side, he hopes she doesn't mind.  He curls up under the sheets with his back towards the middle of the bed.  Not long afterwards she gets out of the bathroom.  He tries not to look, but he catches her in the corner of his eye and the sight of her in his shirt is enough to make his entire brain freeze and stutter to a halt.

Oh, this was a terrible idea.  He should still go sleep in the truck.

She flicks off the light and climbs into the other side of the bed and he can feel her shifting around for a bit before she settles down.

"Goodnight, Max," she says.

"Goodnight."

\---

It feels like hours of wanting to toss and turn and trying not to so he doesn't disturb Liz and Max is ready just to get up and go sit outside for a while when Liz whispers, "Max?  Are you asleep?"

"No," he says and rolls over onto his back to find that she’s done the same.

"This is the most unconformable bed I've ever tried to sleep on," she says.

"I think I have to agree."

After a moment she turns onto her side, towards him, and he does the same.  Light from the streetlamps filters through the curtains casting the room in a red glow and everything seems quiet and warm as the huddle near each other.

"I'm sorry you didn't get what you came here for," she says quietly.

All he can do is shrug.

"Shouldn't have let myself because a... hoping kind of person," he says.

They speak softly in the dark, curled towards each other.  He tells her things about his abilities that he's never told anyone else and she tells him that she's forgiven him for the choices he's made, which he finds nearly unbelievable.  When she tells him she thinks he's still a good person and all he can think is that he had no idea that it was possible for someone's heart to feel lighter and yet crumpled in the same moment.  He's not sure how much of that shows on his face, but some of it must because her expression softens even more and she reached out and tries to brush back the lock of hair that's always falling in his face.

"Goodnight, Max," she says.

"Goodnight."

She rolls over and away from him, pulling the sheets around herself as she does.  He rolls over as well and tries to get comfortable, but it's a long time before he falls asleep.

\---

He wakes early in the morning, warm and relaxed and with hair in his face and Liz in his arms and she smells amazing and, wait – Liz in his arms?  Oh, he is a dead man.  He's not sure if he's going to die first of mortification or because Liz will kill him.

"Are you awake?" she whispers, dashing any hopes he has of getting up and disentangling himself without her knowing.  She shifts backwards so that they're no longer touching, but close enough that they're still in each other's space.

"I just woke up," he says, voice fuzzy with sleep.

"I figured," she says. "I felt you tense up.  I was trying to not to wake you, but I guess that was futile.  Sorry about," she makes small, vague gestures between them, "I'm not usually a clingy sleeper."

"I never am," he says.

"I guess our bodies know what our heads don't," she murmurs.

"What’s that?"

"That we're safe with each other."

But that can't be because, "You said you were terrified of me."

"I was scared of the whole situation," she says. "Never of you.  Even when I accused you of hurting Rosa I did it alone, in the dark, without telling anyone where I'd gone.  Does that sound scared to you?"

"That sounds incredibly foolish."

"I guess you make me foolish."

"I'm sorry," he says, because he knows that she'd rather be logical than emotional and he doesn't mean to strip that away from her.  He doesn't even understand how he's doing it.

They lapse into silence.  He should get up, but she's still close and he doesn't want to move.  He's preparing himself to do it anyway when she speaks.

"Can I kiss you?"

At first he's sure he's heard her wrong, but she's looking at him with a little shyness and a lot of determination and then he's sure that he hasn't even if it doesn't make any sense.

"Why?" he asks.

"I don't know," she whispers and he doesn't even know what to do with that answer.

He can feel his heart pounding in his chest and like he can barely draw breath at the very suggestion of it.  There are no lights on in the room, but for all he knows that's because he's shorted them out already.  He'd prepared himself once to kiss her once and then never again.  Perhaps he can do that now.

"Yes."  The word falls from his lips without him even really meaning it to.

She reaches out for him, fingers brushing across his cheek to curve around the back of his neck.  His hand finds her waist and he doesn't even really remember leaning towards her, but he must have because they're kissing and her hand is in his hair and, oh God, they're already in a bed and he's wearing nothing but a tank top and his underwear and he's tried not to look at her, but he knows her skirt is on the dresser and she's wearing his shirt of all things.  It takes every ounce of strength he has not to deepen the kiss and pull her closer and roll over until she's on her back with him pressed on top of her.  He wants to slide a hand up her top and settle between her thighs and kiss her until neither of them can remember a time when they weren't kissing and the only imaginable thing to do is to take the next step.

The string jalapeno lights explode with a series of small pops and Liz breaks the kiss with a gasp.

"Wait, we can’t do this," she says.

"I know." And he really does.

"It’s not fair," she says.

She right, it’s not, but to whom?  Her?  Him?  Both of them?

"I’m sorry," she says.

"Don't be," he says, drawing back on one elbow, trying to find his breath again, trying not to overload the rest of the lights. "It’s just as well.  Now I think about it, I don’t have any protection."

Liz’s expression turns almost mischievous.

"I do," she says. "I always keep one in my purse."

Before he can formulate a thought in reaction to that reveal, Liz sits up, clearly trying to collect herself and says, "I'm going to - " She finishes the thought by gesturing towards the bathroom.

He nods and when the bathroom door is safely shut he flops backwards.  What was he thinking?  He should get ready to leave, but he'll have to wait for his heartrate to go down.  Among… other things.

When Liz gets out of the bathroom he takes his turn after he realizes that he probably should have brought his pants and gotten dressed again in privacy.  Liz is smarter than he is, so maybe she thought of that.

He cracks the door open.

"Is it safe to come out?" he asks, "Are you decent?"

"You can come out," Liz says, but when he does he finds she’s not decent at all.

She’s sitting on the bed, still in his shirt, bare legs only partially covered by rumpled sheets.  Her open purse lies on the foot of the bed.

"I really want to have sex with you," she says and it’s the exact same tone she uses every time she tells him she wants to kiss him. "But I can’t help but think that we shouldn't, given how you feel about me."

"So you didn't get dressed and got out a condom instead?"

Liz looks down at her hand.

"Yes," she says and she shakes her head as if trying to clear it. "I keep thinking that we’re adults.  We can have sex if we want.  But then I think that because we're adults we should know that sometimes it's not that simple.  Sometimes sex is a bad idea.  And then I keep smelling you on this shirt and it’s shorting out my brain," she adds, almost sullenly.

And there goes the last vestiges of his rational thought.

He walks the three paces to the bed and gets on it, not touching her, but within easy reach.

"Then let's do it," he says. "As you said, we’re both adults.  Neither of us are drunk.  There's no psychic bond.  So what if we don’t feel the exact same way about each other?  We feel the same way about this."

"You’re only saying that because you’re thinking with your dick and not your brain."

"Oh, definitely.  Absolutely.  Since I woke up." He gently take the condom from her fingers. "But I’m okay with that if you are."

"Maybe if we just keep it simple," she says. "Hand stuff only?  Maybe some oral?"

He goes a little cross-eye at the idea of going down on her.

"Oh yes," he says.

"Then I’m also okay with that if you are."

She lies back, smiling at him flirtatiously, hair splayed on the pillow, body curved provocatively.  She begins to slowly unbutton the shirt - his shirt - slowly with one hand and he settles down next to her, close enough to be tantalizing, but not actually touching yet.  He's not sure how he's going to survive this, but he wants it just the same.

"Don't think I didn't notice the way your eyes lit up when I said oral," she says.

"Yeah," he says. "I was thinking I’d go down on you.”

"Max Evans, a gentleman in bed," she says. "I'm not surprised."

He does try to be but, "No, it's purely selfish," he says. "I've wanted to for a long time."

"Max," Liz says and pulls back as if she wants to be able to see his face properly, delight growing in hers. "Are we fulfilling a long time fantasy of yours?"

"Maybe."

She's finished unbuttoning the shirt and he reaches out to slowly draw it open.

"Any others you care to tell me about?" she asks.

Because he thinks it might make her laugh and because he has no pride when it comes to his feelings for her he says, "Liz, I've been in love with you since before puberty so I think the less said about them, the better."

She grins, her eyes sparkling.

"Was I the star of your first wet dream?" she teases.

"You were the star of all of them," he says and leans down to kiss her.  

It's not at all like any of the fantasies he'd had over the years, but he was never actually expecting it to be.  He knows sex can be funny and messy and awkward, but he's never slept with someone he loves before and is completely unprepared for how it changes the experience.  It's still funny and messy and awkward and yet somehow it's perfect.  His heart feels like it's going to explode just from touch of her fingertips on his bare arm.

She surges upwards at the same time he leans down so the kiss is more like a collision, but she already has her hand fisted in his hair and she's sliding her tongue into his mouth so he doesn't have any real complaints.  He's pretty sure he'd be content spending the rest of forever in this bed with Liz making out with her, but soon she's tugging at his shirt and they're removing clothes and then they're both naked and it feels so fast and yet like he's been waiting his whole life to be like this with her.

They lose the condom in the sheets for what feels like five hundred years, but it's probably actually only ten seconds and when they finally find it again Liz uses a utility tool from her purse to make-shift dental dam out of the condom so he can go down on her.  He's always enjoyed giving oral, but knowing that it's _Liz_ that he's making gasp and writhe and pull at his hair is utterly mind-blowing.

Afterwards she gets him off with her hand, their foreheads pressed together, breath mingling.  She’s a little surprised by his foreskin at first – "Of course, you came out of the pod when you were seven," – but she isn't put off by it.  Even just the first soft touches of her hand are enough to make him feel like every part of him is electrified and he actually has to check to make sure he's not.  The light by the bedside pops with a shower of sparks when he comes - he's gotten much better about that over the years, but probably should have expect it because after all this is _Liz_ he's with.  She jumps, startled, but then laughs with delight when she realizes what happened.

He's not ready for this to be over so he pulls her close to kiss her again and when he asks if he can finger her and she says, "Oh God, yes please," and afterwards she clings to him, still shaking from her orgasm, and buries her face in the crook of his neck.

"You are so good at that," she sighs.

"I did a lot of reading," he admits.  Now is not the time to mention that he's also had no small amount of practice over the last eight years.

"Score one for literary nerds," she says and catches his mouth with hers.

They kiss for a long moment, but he has to stop to say, "You were amazing.  This was amazing."

"It was," she agrees. "Was it everything you imagined?"

"It was more," he says.  "You have no idea."

He doesn't even know how to explain.

They're both still naked, pressed close to each other and he's positive he could go again soon, but she sighs and slowly shifts away.

"As much as I’m enjoying myself," she says. "We should get going.  I have things to do in Roswell today."

Right, Roswell and real life.  The real life where he goes back to trying to avoid her to spare them both the awkwardness and the pain.  The real life where he doesn’t get to ask if he can cook her dinner.  The real life where his sister is in stasis because she's dying.

They gather up their clothes mostly in silence and both shower quickly – and separately – and when he’s done and dressed he finds Liz sitting on the bed looking ready to go.

"All set?" she asks, standing.

"Yeah," he says, but neither of them move.

It's not awkward, but it is somehow hesitant.  He'd know that 'just sex' with her was never going to work with him and had wanted it anyway, but he hadn't expecting her to be affected as well.  He must be reading her wrong.  His eyes drift down to her lips and as he tears them upward he sees that her gaze on him is mirrored.

"One last kiss for the road?" he murmurs.

After a long beat she looks up, meeting his eyes.

"Okay."

If this is the last time then he’s going to make it count.

It's not their first kiss - that happened just this morning, with their clothes already mostly off and their hands on bare skin - but this is how he's always wanted to do it.  He takes her in his arms, gently pulls her close and ducks his head to softly press his mouth to hers in a slow, simple kiss.  She melts against him, hands coming up to caress his face.  After a long moment they part slowly, noses brushing.  He doesn't want to let her go.

"We should get going," he says and for the life of him he can't think of four words he wishes he didn't have to say more.

"We should," she agrees, but they both stall there, her hands on his chest, his on her waist.  After a moment she admits softly, "I don't know what to do with the way you feel about me.  It isn't real."

It's such a strange thought that he can't help the incredulous look that crosses his face.  She goes on to explain that she's a mess and so far away from the person that she used to be that there's no way he could still love her.  He agrees that she's changed - they both have - but he never once thought that she was perfect and he tells her so.  It's almost like a bizarre, reverse love letter but it's what he knows.  It's been ten years, but they were friends before that.  He saw her then and he sees her now.

He tells her because he needs to her know, not because he thinks it's going to change anything so it's a surprise when she grabs his face in her hands pulls him into another kiss.  They've kissed more times this morning than he ever thought he'd be able to in his life and yet this one feels different, like this time he can feel her heart and it's beating in time with his.


End file.
